Collision Course
by Jango27
Summary: "She shouts obscene warnings through the filthy gag, because she knows who will come through that door first, just as she knows with a frigid certainty that that will trigger something horrible that she can't control." The actions of one of my favorite characters in one of my favorite episodes. Rated for language. Hope you enjoy :)
1. Chapter 1

**Howdy hooligans,**

 **So, this is just a short drabble into the amazing actions of one of my favorite characters. This scene literally had me in tears, and I just couldn't shake the emotions of both Bobbi and Hunter. The whole finale was incredible; practically everything a fan could ask for (though I could do without the damn cliffhanger, but that's alright. I'm totally fine. Totally. Fine).**

As usual, I don't own anything. These amazing characters are the works of people a thousand times more talented than anything I could hope to achieve.

Italics/brackets are flashback-things (hopefully it's obvious as you read)

Hope you enjoy :)

...

"She doesn't care about her own life," Kara had said, dropping the gun she held loosely to her side. And Bobbi, despite herself, had let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding, because although she had no fear for an abrupt end to the whirlwind that was her life, there was some innate human instinct that wanted to avoid her brains being splattered all over the floor.

But through the haze of pain and shock that had settled over her mind in the past few hours, a wave of apprehension rolled through her. Torture and death she could handle, because that was the life she'd signed up for; that was the very realistic end for a person in this line of work. Her own life meant nothing if her death had significance.

But she had a weakness, and damn it if Kara and Ward knew what that was.

 _(Her weakness came in the form of a brown-haired, rugged idiot with an accent just as distinctive.)_

The skin around her wrist is scraped raw. Her whole body pulses with a fiery pain from her bloody fingertips to her shattered knee, and yet she thrashes in the chair, bucking her body backwards just trying to get some distance towards the gun (knock the base, tip it over, just get the fucking bullet away from the door). She shouts obscene warnings through the filthy gag, because she knows who will come through that door first, just as she knows with a frigid certainty that that will trigger something horrible that she can't control.

 _("You don't always have to be in control of everything, Bob!"_

 _"Yes, I do."_

 _"Why? 'Cos you're a bloody SHIELD agent and have to save everyone? Let me tell you something, sweetheart, there's gonna be a time when the world throws you a wrench that'll send you to your knees. Maybe I'm just trying to prepare you for that.")_

She hears his voice. He's shouting her name, saying he's coming for her, and she wants to scream at him because Hunter always has been such an idiot and walking into a room without assessing the threats is entirely something he'd do. He's blinded by his emotions; it's something she's always condemned him for, claiming that it'll get him killed in horrible, painful ways.

She just never considered that it'd be her fault.

Because it is, this whole damn thing is entirely her fault.

She hears his footsteps pause outside the door, and it feels like her heart falters in her chest. She looks over her shoulder, desperately searching for a way to get to the gun that is just too far away. The scenarios playing in her head already; the door will swing open, triggering the motion sensor, and the bullet will tear itself away from the barrel. She can picture it already; the way his head will fling back as the bullet connects with his skull, the way his eyes- so usually filled with a playful humor- will stare at absolutely nothing, how his body will fall to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. It's a combination of horrors she's seen many times over the course of her career, but never scared her as much as it does now.

The doorknob twists, and _jesus fucking no_.

She throws her body to the left, and the chains holding down the chair actually help her; allowing her this small movement, but not enough that she'll fall to the ground.

She hears the gun before she feels it.

But then she does feel it.

And she has just enough time to catch a glimpse of Hunter's shocked face, his eyes wide with horror, before her world explodes.

( _They're lying with their legs intertwined, her head on his chest as he hums some god-awful country song under his breath, his fingers drumming in time against her bare back._

 _There's something to be said about moments like this; moments where for just a few hours it doesn't matter that she'll be called out for a new job, and he'll complain like he does every time because she's reckless and guarded and damn well near impossible to reason with._

 _They're well suited to their rolls by now; it's practically an art form._

 _Bobbi shifts her hand so it lies directly above his heart, feeling the steady beat thrum beneath her fingertips. If she could stop time right now, she'd be happy. She has the warmth of the only person she relies on beside her and the assurance of his commitment with the whispered lyrics under his breath, and she's happy._

 _To her, his touch feels like home_.)

She's vaguely aware of his hands on hers, untangling her wrists from their cuffs. Her head's bowed, and she tries to lift it, to stare at his face for eternity because she wants so desperately to make sure he's alive and not hurt and not bleeding out because of all the mistakes she's made. But there's a new pain, one that's simultaneously burning and freezing its way through her ravaged body. It's interesting, because even though she knows the pain is one of the worst she's ever felt in her life, it's almost as if her mind has floated away and she can't think or move or react or speak.

And there's so much she wants to say to him.

Like how she's made so many bad decisions in her life, but for once she's sure this isn't one of them. Just like her choice to give away the safe house coordinates to Hydra (the very thing that had apparently led to her bleeding out on cold white tiles), this is a decision she'd make over and over again.

The lives of many mean more than the lives of a few.

And God, his life was worth so much more than her own.

 _(They're on a collision course, she realised once, early on; both with completely different approaches- hers an insurmountable respect for authority and order, his a blatant disrespect for anything that could be considered settling down. They're bound together, though, in ways neither of them understands. The need she feels for him alarms her, but not more than the idea of Hunter not being in her life does.)_

"Stay with me," he begs, his eyes alight with desperation.

Stay with me stay with me stay with me.

He cups her cheeks with his hands, forcing her to keep eye contact even as her sight blackens around the edges and the world swirls in and out of focus.

She wants to see his face, to feel its rough edges under her hands, but she simply doesn't have the strength to do anything anymore. Her shoulder burns and she can't seem to catch her breath. His voice filters through into her brain, and his words are filled with agonized pleading. He's scared, and she thinks that if she was still capable of feeling anything other than pain, maybe she would be too.

 _("He wears his heart on his sleeve," she tells Mack, "I don't think I can do that_.")

It doesn't matter though; his touch still feels like home.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading :) If you want to chat about anything (like Bobbi or Hunter or Skye or Fitzsimmons or Coulson or every damn character in the MCU), feel free to drop me a message. I might need someone to vent to about the season finale.**

 **Thanks a lot!**

 **-F**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow guys, thank you so much for the support! I'd kept this fic open just to see the reaction, but all your lovely reviews were more than enough to keep this going :) I'm estimating this to be around 3-4 chapters long, but I guess we'll see how it goes.**

 **Once again, flashbacks are in italics and brackets, and I don't own anything of this amazing show or its characters.**

 **Thank you so much!**

 **...**

The first thing that strikes Hunter is the stink of fear.

Fear mixed with blood.

It's a terrifying combination, one that gives just a hint the horrors that Bobbi's been through in the past few hours. And yet standing outside the door, staring at the blood splatters on the floor (which, for some reason he can't explain, Hunter just _knows_ belongs to his ex-wife), he refuses to believe that Bobbi will be reduced to anything except the fiery soldier she's always acted as.

( _He eyes the sheer amount of blood on her clothes with wide eyes. "Jesus, do I even want to know what the other guy looks like?" he asks, not making any move towards her- because past experience as shown Bobbi won't have any of it._

 _She snorts and walks to the bed- was she_ limping?- _and promptly collapses on the covers. "Credit me with some skill, Hunter," she mumbles into the pillow, "there was more than one guy." Her eyes flutter shut._

 _Bobbi's asleep within seconds, and later he'll marvel at how she even got home with a shattered ankle, three broken ribs and countless knife wounds. He doesn't question it though; if there's one thing he knows about his girl is that not even bloody Thor could get in the way of what she wants_ )

He knows with a dreadful clarity that Bobbi is on the other side of that door, but if anyone else is with her is unknown. The fierce pleasure he feels at the possibility of killing the people that have taken her should be alarming, but the thought of Bobbi is stronger.

If that traitorous Hydra bastard had done _anything_ to her… Hunter doesn't actually know how to finish that thought; he's always tried to ignore that deepest recess of his mind, the one that kept him up at night wondering if the job was really worth the bloodlust that overtook him sometimes.

He twists the doorknob, surprised when he finds it unlocked.

He hears a muted sound from the other side and freezes, some distant part of his mind reminding him that he should probably call for May before racing into an unknown situation. He should wait to take in the variables. He definitely shouldn't be prepared to race in guns blazing without even knowing what's going on.

But it's _Bobbi_ , and to be honest he's never really thought clearly around her.

And with that final thought, he throws the door open and raises his gun.

And he doesn't even register what he's seeing before he hears a shot. He flinches, bracing himself for the pain he's sure is going to slam into his mind at any second.

But then he feels a spray of blood hit his face and _forces_ himself to look.

And suddenly he.

Can't.

Breathe.

 _("Marry me."_

 _She whirls around to face him, her eyes bright with adrenaline from the fight. She raises her gun, and for a second Hunter's absolutely positive she's going to shoot him in the head, but then she fires and the bullet passes harmlessly over his shoulder, smashing into the chest of the man about to catch Hunter unaware from his back. Bobbi takes the momentary break in attackers to push a strand of sweaty hair off her face and God, she looks beautiful._

 _"You never do things the easy way, do you Hunter?" she says in a somewhat breathless voice._

 _He grins at his ability to be one of the few people to catch her off guard._

 _"Well love, the whole romantic evening, getting down on one knee; does that really sound like us?"_

 _The echoing sound of footsteps running towards them ends the precarious moment, and Bobbi grabs his elbow and drags him down behind the cover of an upturned desk. Just in time, as a wave of bullets slams into the area they'd just been standing._

 _She turns her head sideways to look at him, a playfulness in her tone as she says "honestly, I think the least you could do is get me a ring."_

 _He barks out a laugh. "Really? Nothing about our lives are normal and yet you want something as mainstream as a ring? Pathetic. I'll give you the world, Bob, if you just say yes."_

 _She unloads her gun, checking the amount of rounds left with practiced ease, and throws a glance around their temporary shelter. "What exactly am I agreeing to?" she asks as the sounds of the fight scream around them._

 _"Never leave me."_

 _The smile he gets is blinding, and the ferocious kiss- hard and soft against his lips all at once- is all the agreement he needs._

 _And her eyes are the brightest he's ever seen them when she answers "I think I could agree to those terms._ )

"Bob," he gasps, shock and horror rendering his voice a mere whisper.

He races forward and falls to his knees in front of her limp form. "Bob, Bobbi!" he repeats, desperately trying to illicit a response from her. He tries to ignore the shaking of his hands as he unties the cuffs around her wrists- Jesus, her _fingers_ \- because this was not happening. It couldn't. It was a nightmare, a terrible, horrible nightmare. Nothing more.

So why wasn't he waking up?

His hands reach up to cup her cheeks, trying to illicit a response from her because she was too damn still and- _bloody hell_ \- the bloodstain low on her shoulder was growing at an alarming rate.

He hugs her body to his, lifting her from the damn chair and placing her as gently as possible to the ground where he could pressure her shoulder. That's when he heard a pained gasp escape from her.

The elation he feels that she hasn't left him yet is crushed at the look of absolute pain in her eyes.

He places his hands on her face again, forcing her to keep eye contact. "Bobbi, _Bobbi_ , you stay with me, alright?" He's begging, but he can't bring himself to care, because she's _gasping_ for air and it's like there's nothing he can do except pray she doesn't bleed out under his hands.

He doesn't bother telling her she's fine- they're both too realistic for that- and her ever weakening heartbeat beneath his fingers is proof enough of his failure. _Because_ _God, oh God, she'd taken a fucking bullet for him._

"Stay with me, Bob, stay with me" _You promised, you promised you'd never leave me._

Her eyes are frantic, and maybe that's what scares him the most. Because every damn wall she usually had to keep him out is gone and the emotions on her face are startling, if just because of the fact that she's allowing them to be seen.

There are very few things that scare Lance Hunter. His life and job as an agent-turned-merc-turned agent had provided him with a scale in which the bar for fear had been set extremely high. Torture and pain was never a fun thing to experience, but they came with the territory. It was the perception of death that was the funny thing. As macabre as it sounded, the expectations that had been placed on agents in high distress situations (i.e. staring death in its ugly face) that it provided almost the final challenge; the final battle to see if you were worthy of the job you'd signed up for. It was the twisted sense of honour that bore agents to the end.

But when it came to the suffering of those around you; the deaths of those you cared about, suddenly it was unacceptable. Suddenly their lives meant more than the any job in the world. People like him and Bobbi needed things like that; they needed each other as reminders of their humanity, of the lives they had outside of work.

So no, there are very few things that scare Lance Hunter.

But watching Bobbi die in front of him was terrifying.

* * *

 **Sorry to end it there, but the next chapter just seemed like it'd flow better if it included May finding them etc.**

 **So, few things to ponder. I'm really liking writing the flashbacks, and I have a few ideas about what I'd like to include next. Obviously, the ones so far have been relatively light-hearted, but I'd really like to delve into the more emotional scenes of their relationship as the drama that we saw throughout the episode plays out (also I'd pay to see Bobbi set fire to Hunter's car, so there's that :p). All I'm wondering is if there's any that you'd like to see; just drop me a line! I'd love to hear it.**

 **Also, with regards to Bobbi's line in the finale where she "doesn't want to do this anymore", I'd taken that to be that she doesn't want to be an agent anymore. But then I read a (frankly quite terrifying) comment that she doesn't want to be with Hunter anymore, which I'd never really considered either. What do you guys think?! Honestly, I don't think I could take them not being together, but that's okay. I've learned to trust the AoS writers (I think...)**

 **Anyways, I'd love to hear what you think of this story so far, but thank you regardless for giving this a read!**

 **-F**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi all :)**

 **Sorry for the time it took to update, this chapter actually took a lot longer than I thought it would. I know absolutely positively nothing about medicine, so I was trying to avoid any sort of thing like that. I'm not too sure with the overall result, but I guess it's better than trying to replicate all that medical jargon stuff.**

 **Anyway, thank you for your continued support! You're all rock stars ;)**

 **And for the lovely guest reviewer, Bunny the Rabbit (awesome name by the way), thank you for the lovely review, and your suggestion has been noted :)**

 **...**

May's arrival brings a wave of relief so strong that it almost knocks Hunter over. Her gun's raised, but it lowers quickly as she takes in the bloody scene with an expression filled with nothing short of horror. That even the toughest agent Hunter knows can't hide her fear is proof enough of how serious the situation is, of just how much Bobbi's life is in danger.

He looks up at her, his eyes pleading. "Help," his voice breaks slightly, "we need to get her out of here; I'm losing her!"

( _"Never leave me."_ )

Hunter's plea seems to snap May back into action, and suddenly she seems ridiculously calm and cool despite the situation. She strides forward, snatching his gun from where he'd dropped it recklessly to the floor. "Gentle," she insists as he pulls Bobbi into his arms.

He forces himself not to hear the whimper that leaves her lips at the movement because Bobbi's tough, she always has been and now- especially now- he needs to keep that image in his head.

"Eyes on me, Bob," he says to her, because her grip around his neck isn't anywhere near as tight as it should, and the striking liquid he can feel seeping into his shirt threatens to make him sick. In some distant part of his mind, he can hear May ahead of him, calling back to Coulson or Simmons for assistance- but the only sounds that filter through his brain are Bobbi's gasps for breath, and he feels like sobbing when he realises that they're becoming shallower and forced, almost as if her breath's catching in her throat.

Almost like she's drowning in her own blood.

( _"What do you think's the nicest way to die?"_

 _The smile that's been plastered on her face for half the day doesn't slip, but there's a flash of emotion- annoyance?- in her eyes that only Hunter can see. She's holding a cover, and let no one ever say that Bobbi Morse wasn't a professional. "What the hell are you going on about, Hunter?" she asks brightly, but with an edge to her voice that lets Hunter know he's on dangerous ground._

 _Then she throws him completely by nuzzling into his neck._

 _Her actions are causing him hell trying to concentrate- their relationship isn't really filled with displays of affection, especially in public, so for her to be cuddling in the full view of others, acting like just another couple on their honeymoon in sunny Spain, is quite a sight to behold._

 _"Well," he swallows thickly, "nicest being a relative term, of course. Biting it in your sleep seems a bit boring. I mean, you don't even realise what's happened until you wake up in that big capital "U" Unknown. Drowning's a bit morbid too… Maybe a good shootout, you know?" He presses a kiss to her hair, turning her slightly so she has a full view of their target; a strongly-built man with a business just as imposing. "Quick shot to the head, adrenaline flooding your system. Nothing much better than that, right Bob? What do you think?"_

 _"I think this is one of the stupidest conversations ever."_

 _"Oh now, that seems like a bit of an exaggeration, love." He lifts a hand to her cheek and caresses the soft skin there with a slow swipe of his thumb. "I'd die for you. That's easy to say. That would be a nice death in my eyes."_

 _He feels her body freeze under his fingertips but doesn't think much about it. If anything it thrills him that he's the only one to elicit such a response from the usually unbreakable Mockingbird._

 _Her voice is barely audible over the din of the surrounding square, but Hunter hears it clearly regardless. "What is it with you and having these sorts of conversations in the most inappropriate place?" she whispers._

 _He grins. "Just living while we're young, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see either way.")_

The next thing Hunter's aware of is the ramp of the quinjet under his feet. He can't remember any of how they'd made it there; the panic of seeing Bobbi finally give in to unconsciousness overshadowed everything.

( _He's holding her in his arms as if she's the final possession of a man with nothing else to live for, so why have they never felt so far apart?_ )

May immediately sets the coordinates for the base, all the while screaming into the coms in her ear for the rest of their team to return to the plane.

Hunter moves to the back of the jet, placing Bobbi oh so gently on the floor. May's back at his side in an instant, and together they prop Bobbi up slightly so they can easily place pressure on the entry and ragged and bloody exit wound low to her shoulder. They work in professional silence, attaching monitors and giving what little first aid is available with the sort of fluidity that comes only from having done this far too many times than either would've liked.

There must be some horrible desperation easily identifiable on his face though, because May pushes away from where his hands are hovering- _shaking_ \- over Bobbi's still- _practically dead_ \- form. Instead he retreats to the top of her head, where he brushes strands of sweaty blonde hair off her face and presses his nose to her forehead. In the grand scheme of things, her gunshot wound overshadowed everything in terms of severity, but there's a mind-numbing haze over Hunter's mind that results in him noticing the smaller details; the feel of Bobbi's hair under his touch; her distinctly unique smell, something that's tainted now with the tang of blood and grime.

"Fucking hell," comes a breathy voice from behind him. Hunter spins around, turning to face the agent who'd spoken- a boy really, couldn't have been older than 25, his eyes wide at the blood covering Hunter. Had SHIELD really been reduced to this? A bunch of scared teenagers waving guns and scared of the life that had been paved in front of them- scared of the very real possibility that it could be them in Bobbi's place, bleeding out on the floor.

"Shit," the boy whispers again, his eyes falling on where May was working on Bobbi. "She's dead."

Hunter's in his face in an instant, and the boy takes a stumbling step back at the pure ferocity on the older man's face.

"Say that again," Hunter says, his voice a low growl; feral, dangerous, completely unlike him.

"We don't have the equipment with us to deal with that sort of injury. She needs a damn miracle."

Hunter shoves him in the chest, pushing him painfully into the plastic seats that line the side of the plane. "Then get on your fucking knees and pray for one! At least you'll be doing something rather than standing there like a bloody twat!"

( _"Your English is showing."_

 _"Excuse me? The hell do you mean 'my English is showing'? I'm bloody well from England, you useless result of an underdeveloped nation. I'm just all alone on this festering politics-ridden hunk of land."_

 _"Please, if we're that bad, why're you still here?"_

 _He gives her a lopsided grin, letting his eyes- very noticeably- travel up and down her body. "What can I say; some of the views stole my heart."_

 _He's fully prepared for the punch to the shoulder_.)

He collapses down to his knees beside her body and leans forward so his lips are touching her ear. "You listen to me, Bob. They don't know you, no one knows you like I do and I know you're still in there, bloody well fighting. Because that's what you do, Bob, you fight. You're a SHIELD agent with the skills to take on an army, so _fight_ , damn it."

May, opposite him, still putting pressure on Bobbi's shoulder, shoots him a look which is clearly telling him to calm down. He's rambling, and she needs him to focus.

He takes a breath. "You're the strongest person I know, Bob. _So you stay with me_."

Hunter has said that a lot this past hour; it's actually something he's said a lot throughout the time he's known Bobbi too. She'd never really listened to him; her devotion to the job overruling any other obligations- even to her husband. Her inability to stay in the same place for more than a month was something he'd accepted early on, because it was the life they'd both chosen, but it didn't mean he never resented it.

Now, though; now seemed like a pretty damn good time for Bobbi to start listening to him, because he'd never been so scared of her not being in his life.

* * *

 **Sorry for leaving it there, but I'm really having trouble deciding with where to stop chapters. Bleh, anyway, thank you so much for reading! I'm hoping to have the (probably) last chapter up soon!**

 **THANK YOU!**

 **-F**


	4. Chapter 4

**Howdy hooligans :) I'm so sorry this took ages to update, but it really turned out to be really hard to write! Not to mention that this is the largest chapter I've ever written. Seriously. It's also got heaps of flashbacks in it which were really fun to write, including one with Isabelle Hartley which some people asked for.**

 **But anyway, this is the last chapter (4 chapters seems a bit of a weird number, but I digress) so I just want to once again thank you guys for all your support, whether it be reviews, follows or favorites. You guys are epic :)**

 **Anyway... thank you so much once again!**

 **...**

Breathe. In. Out.

It's a series of ingrained motions, something so natural that he hadn't ever given it a thought until suddenly it's an effort and every breath seems to sear his lungs.

Breathe. In. Out.

Bobbi hadn't been breathing when they'd arrived. Her heart had barely been beating when they'd wheeled her into surgery and Hunter, with blood caking his fingernails - had gripped her hand in his own, feeling the assurance in a weak, dull throb of her heart that for the moment she was still fighting.

That for the moment she hadn't left him in this dull, grey world.

God, he'd done this wait far too many times in his life- both in his career and before; back to a time he never really likes to acknowledge. It's stuck with him though, as bad things are common to do.

 _("Lance… Lance, come here, kid." The tall man with a scruff-covered chin taps the empty seat beside him. Lance has been avoiding it, not just because hard-backed chair seemed somehow less appealing than the chemically-clean floor but because there was this feeling inside of him that kept him moving; always kicking his feet, always jumping from tile to tile or making faces at himself on the pristine floor. He'd never been the type of kid to sit down for more than five minutes, so why should he suddenly start now?_

 _He had to because as they'd wheeled her away, his mum had told him to be brave._

 _Pretending like everything was normal was him being brave, right?_

 _But he can't deny the unfathomable look in his father's eyes, so with the energy only a ten-year-old can achieve he hoists himself up into the seat where he slumps, swinging his battered sneakers that are still slightly caked in mud from where he'd played football the other day._

 _His father pats the armrest to get Lance's attention, before nodding slightly to one of the passing doctors. "You know why they wear white, Lance?"_

 _He doesn't know why his father's saying his name so much, or why there's a certain shakiness to his voice that Lance has never heard before. All he knows is that when they'd said goodbye, his mother had gripped him in a hug so tightly he could barely breathe. He shrugs in answer._

 _"They wear white because they're the miracle workers, kid. They're the ones that help us."_

 _That was the first day Lance Hunter had ever seen his father proved wrong._

 _After that day, Hunter stopped believing in miracles._

 _It took him a long time to start believing that others could help him, too.)_

* * *

Jemma Simmons had seen a lot with her time with SHIELD. She'd seen blood and anger and cruelty that humans were capable of. She'd watched as her friends went off to war and came back with the scars to prove it. She'd endured sitting by her friend's bedside- first Skye, then Fitz- as they'd stared death in its face and been unable to do anything. She'd become hardened because of it, almost immune to the pain that had struck her speechless before. Nothing, though, could protect her from the faces of the people on the other side of the door.

To her right, one of the nurses gives her a nod, signaling that everything is prepared for the surgery that'll save Agent Morse's life. Because it will save her life. Jemma refuses to believe anything else. She had mixed feelings towards Bobbi, but there was no scenario where she wouldn't give everything she could to the agent.

She nodded back to the nurse, gesturing that she'd join them soon, before looking down at Bobbi's bruised face. The sheer amount of damage, not just the life-threatening bullet wound, was startling. Broken bones and torn fingernails and cuts and bruises… all because of Grant Ward.

Yes, Jemma had seen a lot over the past few years, but the one thing that continued to horrify her was the extent of man's cruelty- like Ward, torturing Bobbi for hours purely because he could. She could've spared Bobbi- and Hunter, by extension- all this pain if she'd only managed to kill him earlier. She'd been _so_ close, so utterly prepared to end his life because he'd ruined theirs. She'd just wanted to stop him from hurting anyone else.

The woman in front of her was definite proof of just how much she'd failed.

Jemma's hands were covered by white surgical gloves, but she leaned over so her lips were next to Bobbi's ear. "You listen to me, agent Morse. There's a man on the other side of that door who's falling apart right now. I know you and I have had our differences, but there are people that care about you. Don't think for a second that you're alone. Hold on to that."

Bobbi had saved her life once; before everything else had happened. That's what Jemma held on to now. That, and the memory of Hunter's blood-spattered face.

She would regret not being able to stop Ward for the rest of her life, but Jemma could do this for them.

* * *

Her world has shrunk down to the smallest things- the smallest, but most significant. She's always been good at that; at categorizing, at narrowing down a complex situation into the things that mattered. SHIELD called it prioritizing. Hunter called it manipulating. Bobbi just called it doing her job. And that's what she always did. Her job. Regardless of whatever hell her life might be in otherwise.

Now? There's white.

There's pain.

And there's Hunter.

She doesn't really know where she is or why there's this indescribable pain that shatters her mind whenever she thinks she has some semblance of clarity. Her surroundings are a burning blaze of white-hot fire, though, and she thinks- not for the first time- that she might actually be dying.

For an agent trained to see and understand everything around her, it's not much to go on.

For Bobbi Morse, however, it might just mean everything.

( _The phone rings at some ungodly hour in the night._

 _That doesn't matter though, Bobbi's awake the moment her screen lights up, bathing her room in an eerie sort of glow._

 _She doesn't bother checking the caller ID. It's a SHIELD-issued phone, which means only SHIELD-issued people can know the 14 digit code. "Morse," she says evenly into the phone._

 _"It's Hartley."_

 _Bobbi's mind jumps before she's even registered what that that means. There's only one reason Isabelle Hartley would call, and it's not for an innocent chat. She doesn't know Hartley well enough for friendship, but she trusts her to have Hunter's back. In this line of business, maybe that was the same thing_.

 _"Hunter?" Bobbi asks, her voice cool._

 _It's quiet at the other end of the phone, though Bobbi swears there's the distant sound of a crash._

 _"Just get over here." The line goes dead, and Bobbi's out of bed in a second, pulling on a jumper that she'll swear to high heavens doesn't belong to him._

 _She hadn't needed to ask for an address, and Hartley hadn't bothered telling. They both know Bobbi had looked into everything on the other women the second she learned who Hunter's partner was._

 _[page break]_

 _Isabelle Hartley opened her door wearing a hoodie and sweatpants and a royally pissed-off expression on her face._

 _Bobbi didn't blame her; she got that around Hunter too._

 _She pushed past the door and strode into the room, doing a cursory glance over the rugged couch and scuffed table. She sees piles of smashed glass on the floor under the stains of beer on the wall and raises her eyebrow at the other agent._

 _Hartley shrugs. "Ask your husband," is all she says._

 _Bobbi frowns. "He can't be here. Hunter was supposed to be getting back from an op tomorrow morning."_

 _Hartley's face remains impressively blank. "My mistake. Must've been another British guy with stubble that drank all my beer."_

 _Ah. That gives some explanation, though it did little to ease her worries._

 _By nature, there was very little that could get under Hunter's skin- she prided herself in being one of them. But when something did he retreated- retreated and got absolutely smashed. That fact that he was here now meant something had happened on his mission that had thrown him, but still… He still should've come home. Why hadn't he come home?_

 _Bobbi hears a noise from the next room and runs towards it, throwing open the door to find Hunter slouched in the dry bathtub, staring bloody murder at the wall as he chugged back a beer. She felt a chill make its way through her body at his thunderous gaze._

 _Shit. What the hell had happened on that mission?_

 _She walks slowly through the bathroom and sits, cross-legged, with her back against the cool white surface of the bath. Hunter facing the back of her head like this, but she knows her husband. She knows he won't want to look at her while he talks._

 _And he will talk, because that's what Hunter does. She's the one that bottles it all up, tucks it behind steel walls and a padlock. He's the opposite. He needs to talk, to gain reassurance from the people around him. They're well suited to each other, in that respect._

 _It doesn't take long for Hunter to spill._

 _"I shot a man in front of his son."_

 _Bobbi starts- not at what he'd admitted at doing- but at the pure self-loathing in his voice. It's dark and strong and destructive and absolutely nothing like the man she knows._

 _"God, killing shouldn't be so easy, why is it so_ fucking _easy?"_

 _"You really think you'd be like this if you found killing easy?" she asks calmly._

 _She hears the beer slosh as he throws back another gulp. "Maybe… maybe not… that's the problem, Bob. I don't know. I don't know if the people I take down bloody well deserve it and Jesus, you should've seen the kids face. What path have I pushed him down now, huh? Seeing your father get shot in the head; that's enough to screw you up for life."_

 _Despite the amount of alcohol he's seemingly consumed, his words are clear. Hunter puts on a good front, but he's got a hell of a lot of control over himself._

 _She sighs. Damn, she wasn't good at this sort of thing. "You aren't responsible for everything, Hunter. All it comes down to is choices. You made one- one that'll protect a whole lot of other people- and that man made his own."_

 _"A choice that his son has to live with now."_

 _"And he will live with it. He'll grow up and understand. Maybe not now, but unless he grows up to be a twisted psychopath, he'll probably get it."_

 _Hunter snorts. "You're doing great with the whole therapy thing, Bob."_

 _She grins, looking down at her hands. "If you stopped wallowing in self-hate I wouldn't have to."_

 _He's silent for a long time after that, but the silence isn't uncomfortable. There's something companionable about it, which has never really been something that existed between them._

 _It was nice… in a way…_

 _Eventually, the silence gives way to gentle snores, and Bobbi looks over her shoulder to find Hunter, his head tipped back against the lip of the bath, fully unconscious with his mouth hanging open._

 _God, he was an idiot._

 _There's a gentle knock on the door, and Hartley's face appears. Her face breaks into a grin at the sight of Hunter. She looks to_ Bobbi. " _When he sobered, tell him he owes me a case of beer."_

 _Bobbi smiles. "Sure thing."_

 _"And not that he's gonna bitch about it enough, but he's paying for cleaning my carpet too."_

 _"I wouldn't expect anything less.")_

She briefly wonders if she's died, and if this I that unknown Other that she used to ignore so well. It's certainly weird enough. So maybe this is it, maybe this is the end of her pathetic life. Curtains closed. Lights out. No one home.

Someone had something right though, because she is seeing her life. Her body may be giving up but her mind's still very much alive and there's memories and feelings and emotions.

 _("I don't believe it, are you jealous?"_

 _"Yes. I'm jealous because Clint Barton sees more of my wife than I do!")_

There's thing's she'd long thought she'd forgotten. And in every single one of them is him.

( _Bobbi's throwing clothes in a bag and he's watching her do it._

 _She refuses to look up, refuses to speak. She's just so damn angry and if she sees his face then there's a distinct possibility she'll strangle Hunter to death._

 _Or maybe kiss him._

 _Or yell._

 _Or punch him._

 _All look equally appealing, if she's honest with herself. Which she's not, she's never has been. She's an agent; honest isn't in her blood._

 _She grabs another jumper, realizing instantly that it's his, and throws it back to the ground. She tries not to think about how little clothes she's going to have at the end of this, instead intently chucking as much as she can into the duffel bag._

 _Bobbi can practically feel his thunderous gaze. "Can we at least talk about this?"_

 _She tries to yank the zip closed. "Why? This has been a long time coming, Hunter. We both know it."_

 _"Only 'cos you're already halfway out the door on another bloody mission before we can try to fix it." She doesn't try to deny it. She does heave the bag onto her shoulder and stalk to the door- all without looking at her husband._

 _He starts suddenly, striding across the room and standing with his arms across between her and the exit. "Nope, not happening, I'm not watching you walk out that door."_

 _She rolls her eyes up to meet his then and represses the urge to wince at the raw emotions in his eyes. There's anger- for sure- but no small amount of desperation too, and that absolutely floors her. When did she become like this? When did she become willing to sacrifice everything good in her life for the sake of a mission? And the worst thing was that it was almost intentional; the craving she felt for an adrenaline rush and a job well-done rather than the overbearing nature her marriage had taken on. She wasn't built for this, for being completely bound to someone; it wasn't in her nature._

 _She shoulders her bag again, taking a breath and pushes past Hunter. Despite his anger, he lets her go easily._

 _"Then don't watch."_

 _She never looks back long enough to check if he does.)_

God, there's not much in her life that she's proud of. Her life as a SHIELD agent brings a certain sense of satisfaction, but they're never around long enough to see the result of their successes, of the lives they've helped or saved. All they're left with is the piles of bodies that just grows and grows and the pressure to deal with it. And she does deal with it, under the hawk-like gaze of her superiors and mandatory councilors that are just _itching_ to find the faults in her mask. She does her job well though, and she _deals_ with it.

He's her biggest regret -and her smallest.

* * *

Hunter's by her side the second Bobbi comes out of surgery. Someone- Simmons, probably, knowing how sentimental and sympathetic that scientist is- has cleaned the blood and grime off Bobbi's face, but that doesn't take away the bruises and cuts and damn bullet wound.

She's stable, for now, and he acts like he knew she'd be fine the whole time because please, she's Bobbi Morse and if anything's gonna kill her, it'll be her husband, thank you very much.

 _(They wear white because they're the miracle workers, kid. They're the ones that help us.")_

But to her deaf ears, he whispers how scared he was. A shot that low on her shoulder, losing that much blood; she's damn lucky to be alive.

And if she just wakes up now, he'll tell her that every day for the rest of their miserable lives (because he's never letting her go again).

He's still in the same uncomfortable chair when her eyes first flutter open, glazed over as they are with drugs and pain. She's obviously not too sure of her surroundings but between everything that's happened in the last few days, with Skye's parents and Coulson's significant lack of hand, the atmosphere of the Playground is entirely lightened by any good news.

He watches their relief and celebrations with a weary smile, knowing full well that he should be happy too. Bobbi's alive and, providing that nothing unexpected happens in the next few days with the upcoming surgeries, she'll stay that way.

But God, he's tired. He's just so bloody tired.

* * *

"Hey." Bobbi's voice rouses him from his doze, and he gives a small smile at her clear eyes.

He stretches, giving a small groan at the stiffness of his muscles. God, these chairs are horrible to sit in. "You look better," he tells her. Her face is still pale, but she looks like she actually has the energy to talk. "Stupid… but better." He leans down on her bed. "Taking a bullet for me was stupid."

"Walking into a trap when you know it's a trap is stupid," she counters. There's a glint of humor in her eyes, and god, it's like nothing's changed.

His smile drops slightly. "You were the bait." He takes a breath. "Listen, Bob, hang in there. It's a long road. Surgery again tomorrow- they haven't even started on your knee yet." They both glance down to her leg where its supported by a mound of pillows and bandages. That'll be the worst injury, he knows, purely because she won't even be able to walk without remembering what had happened to her. "But soon you'll be stable and then…" he trails off, because he's actually uncertain. For one of the first times in his life, he doesn't know what Bobbi's thinking.

"And then…" she looks up at him and even amid the cuts and bruises, her gaze is dazzling. "I can't do this anymore."

He sits back and stares at her.

And stares.

He's unbelieving at what she is offering, because it's what he'd always wanted and she'd subsequently denied. For Bobbi to be choosing this now means she's choosing a life with him; something he's wanted for them. It's no decision at all from his part when he really considers it. " _Never leave me,"_ he'd said to her once.

He wasn't going anywhere now.

"Okay," is his only answer.

* * *

They never really settle down. Like the fact that Bobbi still sleeps with a gun under her pillow, it's reassuring weight a mere few inches from fast fingers, or how Hunter checks them into each hotel under a different alias; some habits are just too hard to break. He sees it almost like a car crash (the final end to their collision course, Bobbi acknowledges it as), where although the car may stop, the things inside it keep moving.

Technically, they're still a part of SHIELD, bound by the slimmest of threads and a signature at the end of a contract which allows them the occasional op and contact with the people they've learned to refer to as family.

But it's under their rules; they're the ones calling the shots.

At some point, the names they sign in under at every hotel turn into newlyweds. It's a mutual thing, one neither of them feel the need to acknowledge.

There's never a mention of a ring; their lives have never been that mainstream. Instead, it's etched into the scar that now lies above Bobbi's heart and the way Hunter's fingers graze above it as he mutters into her hair of how stupid it was to risk her life for his.

They never talk about it, because to do so would be an attempt to put into words something neither of them really have the answer to. Hunter had once tried to solidify their relationship through spontaneous acts of courage and risk to catch her off guard, but he's moved past that once. They're different people now, and those acts of romance seemed almost fleeting and shallow; a candle in the wind. He works instead to bridge the gap between them, the one that had steadily grown throughout their relationship without either of them acknowledging it.

And somewhere along the way, they learnt to trust each other again.

* * *

It's a few months after everything had happened when Hunter gets a call from Coulson. They're hiding out in one of their safe houses; a tiny little shack, really, in the woods where Bobbi had grown up (she's never told him this of course, but it's obvious; from the way her face relaxes minutely and how she smiles easier when she's among the tall trees). But immediately on hearing what Coulson's offering, Hunter knows they'll have left this place by nightfall.

His phone chirrups again, and Hunter feels the first stirrings of the hunt when he looks down at a familiar looking photo.

He holds it out to Bobbi, who's just entered the door in her workout clothes that show her scars in stark comparison to her pale skin. She'd just been out for a run, despite his request not to push herself so hard). It's a hell of an opportunity, one that has an increasingly small window. He leaves it up to her to decide, but Hunter likes to think he knows her well enough.

They both have a score to settle with Grant Ward after all.

* * *

 **Woohoo! Final note! What I've written is by no means how I think the show will go. Bobbi and Hunter better stay on the show, but hopefully they'll have sorted out all their issues. But someone needs to deal with Ward, and I can think of no one better than these two. I'm sorry if any of you guys like Ward still, but no one messes with Bobbi and Hunter and gets away with it!**

 **Thank you all so much for reading this story. You guys are epic :)**

 **-F**


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